


go under the knife (i believe in this)

by quackingfish



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Demonic Possession, Demons, Exorcisms, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackingfish/pseuds/quackingfish
Summary: Most other people wouldn’t have noticed, but Ryan hadn’t been able to properly settle at all for coming up on two months, now. Shane glanced over at Steven, who’d been working harder and harder and drinking more and more coffee as the weeks went by.And then there was the matter of the double murder Ryan had mentioned, and the missing people who were likely dead or ruined in some other way. There was a demon, out there, roaming free, and they were the ones who’d set it free from that house, after all. He was just being selfish.Shane forced out a sigh, and met Ryan’s eyes. “You still got that holy water?” When Ryan nodded, Shane pulled out his phone. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Steven Lim & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *does a sweet kickflip* yo what's up I'm writing RPF again
> 
> this originally started because I wanted to write Shane with a sword, which morphed into Watcher Scooby Doo, and then I cut both of those and ended up with whatever the hell this is after several rounds of late night 'oh, what if instead I...'  
> this falls somewhere in an alt version of early BuzzFeed days, don't think too hard about it
> 
> tags apply to the whole fic, not just the first chapter, cws for this one include: some violent imagery, and some major guilt issues around, uh, murder/manslaughter.  
> title from Enter Shikari's Anaesthetist

Shane felt his mouth twisting into a snarl and struggled against it, uselessly scrabbling in his mind for the controls of his own body as it writhed under Ryan, lashing out and nearly succeeding in tipping him off. Ryan’s eyes were huge and wide as he fought to pin Shane to the rotting wood floor, and he managed to trap one of Shane’s thighs under his knee, sharp and heavy, and Shane mentally gasped in relief even as growls and curses dripped from his mouth.

Shane’s body snapped with pain and fury, the fucking  _ demon _ in him turning his head to hiss at Steven, who was just barely out of his reach, frantically chanting in poorly pronounced latin, his grip on the Bible he was holding shaky but firm. His spine arched and Shane felt himself scream, a ragged animal sound, and Ryan slammed him back to the ground.

“Stay the  _ fuck _ down!” Ryan snapped, one hand digging sharp and heavy into Shane’s shoulder, and it’d bruise, but that was fucking  _ nothing _ compared to the alternative. The demon tried to buck him off as Ryan fumbled in one of his pockets, and then salt was flying everywhere, and Shane could only hope that Ryan would manage to get it in a circle, that a salt circle would even  _ do _ something, because all of a sudden all he could pay attention to were the thoughts the demon was shoving at him, insistent and vicious.

Steven, his tongue ripped out, coughing blood everywhere, Ryan slammed hard enough through the floorboards to break them, wood spearing through his stomach, Ryan, neck snapped and wrong, Ryan, falling away and landing with a  _ crunch _ -

Shane fought harder, an animal backed into a corner, trying again and again to wrest back control of his own limbs. He had no clue what he was doing, had no clue how to fight against a fucking  _ demonic possession _ , but he didn’t have a choice, and the words Steven were saying  _ burned _ , and he felt himself lunge upwards and snap his teeth at Ryan,  _ just _ shy of biting down.

He was going to lose this fight, he realised. He was stubborn, sometimes, but he wasn’t exactly the willful sort, and really, who would expect him to be able to force a demon out of his head? He was pretty sure that wasn’t even a thing someone  _ could _ do. They never should’ve chased this thing down, should’ve taken what had happened at the Barnett House as enough of a warning and left well enough alone. 

Because Shane was going to lose, and he was going to die, and the only thing he could hope was that Ryan and Steven would manage to bring the demon down along with him.

It had taken until they were mostly done with their burritos, a mess strewn across the table they’d claimed, the sun hanging heavy and low in the sky, for Ryan to finally address why he’d told Shane and Steven to join him for dinner. 

“I’ve got a lead.” He said, sharp but with a hint of excitement. “A solid one.”

“Yeah?” Shane tilted his head, setting down the remains of his burrito. “A lead in what?”

Ryan shot him a look, which was what Shane had been hoping for, and Steven laughed. But then Ryan glanced around, obviously checking there was nobody too close by, and Shane felt his stomach sink. “The demon from the Barnett House.”

Well, fuck.  _ That _ .

Across from him, Steven sucked in a breath. “You got a location?”

“Yeah. A prison slash church slash old school, with a bunch of disappearances, spooked urban explorer guys, and a really fucked up double murder. I’m almost certain it’s there.” 

“You think it’s possessing the missing people?” Steven frowned, leaning in. Shane felt numb.

“Well, yeah. Like, we’re sure it was possessing that guy, right?” Ryan glanced at Shane, almost quick enough that he didn’t notice it. “And this place is perfect, similar energy, from what I can tell. We need to go out there.”

At that, Shane sat up sharply, and this time, it wasn’t just a quick guilty glance Ryan shot his way. “You want to  _ go after it _ ?” He hissed, unable to keep whatever it was that he was feeling out of his voice. Dread, fear, horror, probably. 

“Yeah.” Ryan shrugged, shredding a napkin in his hands. “I’m not excited at the idea, either, but someone’s gotta do something about it.”

“And you think  _ we’re _ the guys to do it?” They’d managed to cover up their tracks pretty well, sure, but no way did deleting footage and- and the  _ rest _ of it, no way did that make them prepared to go  _ demon hunting _ . Shane had only just managed to wrap his brain around the whole thing with demons being  _ real _ . 

“If you have any demon hunters on speed dial, sure, let’s do that.” 

Shane tilted his head, conceding the point, because, well, yeah. 

“How far away is it?” Steven asked. 

“A day’s drive, maybe a little more.”

Steven hummed, nodding. “So we take tomorrow off, unless either of you have a shoot I haven’t heard about, drive up there, and, what?”

Shane tugged a hand through his hair, wincing when the old cut on his arm twinged. Ryan shrugged. “We get a hotel, and then go kick some ass. Or get our asses kicked, whichever.”

Shane couldn’t help but trace his eyes over the lines of exhaustion throughout Ryan’s body, the bags under his eyes, the way his shirt strained over his shoulders a little more than usual. He hadn’t been sleeping, ever since they’d left that house. 

Most other people wouldn’t have noticed, but Ryan hadn’t been able to properly settle at all for coming up on two months, now. Shane glanced over at Steven, who’d been working harder and harder and drinking more and more coffee as the weeks went by.

And then there was the matter of the double murder Ryan had mentioned, and the missing people who were likely dead or ruined in some other way. There was a demon, out there, roaming free, and  _ they _ were the ones who’d set it free from that house, after all. He was just being selfish.

Shane forced out a sigh, and met Ryan’s eyes. “You still got that holy water?” When Ryan nodded, Shane pulled out his phone. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Ryan pulled him to the side, after they’d each called in sick. Steven probably noticed, by the way he wandered ahead and seemed almost overly engrossed in something on his phone. Shane sighed. 

“What’s up, Ryan?”

“You doing okay?”

Shane nodded, and made to push past, but Ryan grabbed his wrist, gentle, but enough to keep him there. Shane blinked at him, and then down at his hand, and back up again.

“I’m serious. You can talk to me, or Steven, or-”

Ryan sounded soft, earnest, delicately concerned, and Shane  _ hurt _ . Shane hesitated, and Ryan’s fingers tightened a little, one slipping under the cuff of his shirt, and god, Shane liked that, liked the feel of Ryan’s hand on him, even as it prevented his escape. The nasty, festering wound on his forearm tugged and stung, and Shane set his shoulders, meeting Ryan’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Ryan. Nothing to talk about.”

Ryan let go of him and stepped back, and it was only then that Shane realised how close they’d been. He looked almost disappointed, but rolled with it, like he always did. Ryan always worked with whatever Shane gave him, no matter what it was, playing against him so fucking well, and it wasn’t fair, couldn’t be, that Shane wanted more. 

“Sure.” Ryan said, his back to Shane. “We should go, gotta get as much sleep as we can before we head out.”

Shane nodded, although they both knew Ryan wasn’t going to sleep much at all. Neither was he, of course, but that wasn’t something that Shane needed to bother Ryan with. He’d already asked so much of Ryan, done him enough damage, so it was better like this. It had to be better like this.

Ryan took the first shift driving, keeping the radio on until they finally got away from all the LA traffic. Shane shifted in his seat, and made a note to buy Steven a coffee or something as thanks for letting him have the passenger seat, because there really wasn’t all that much room in Ryan’s car. Add it to the list of things he owed Steven for, he supposed.

The car in front of them seemed to decide on a whim that it wanted to turn off, and Ryan slammed on the brakes with a curse. Shane laughed. “Careful, don’t want to spill holy water on all your bibles. Unless that would help. Do they bless the paper before they print them?”

Ryan laughed, which had been what Shane was going for. Steven hummed thoughtfully from the backseat. “I don’t think so, but it’s special paper, so I guess you  _ could _ .”

“I don’t think you can just spill holy water on something to make it blessed, Shane.” Ryan rolled his eyes, but his posture loosened, and he was smiling.

“How do you know? You’re not a priest.”

“Because I’m not an idiot! You don’t have to be a priest to know- Steven, it doesn’t work like that, right?” Ryan glanced back with a grin on his face, and Shane laughed.

“I’m also not a priest, Ryan.” Steven replied, eyebrows raised. “I just make YouTube videos.”

“Maybe we should’ve made you a priest, though.” Shane said, turning in his seat. Ryan shot him a look, and he grinned. “Get one of those internet certificates.”

“I don’t know if demons recognise internet churches.” Steven frowned. “Actually, Ryan, how does all the religious stuff work, anyway?”

Shane laughed, tipping his head back. “Imagine a Catholic demon refusing to be exorcised because the preacher was a Protestant, that’d be wild.”

Ryan brightened, “Oh, it’s really interesting actually, hang on-” He paused to focus on taking the right turnoff, squinting at the GPS, and then grinned. “There’s a bunch of contradictory and stupid shit, but the most reputable sources agree that it’s about belief.”

“Belief?” Shane asked, comfortable in the rhythm of guiding a story out of Ryan.

“Yeah. Church exorcists and shit don’t like to say it, but it seems like it’s just a strong belief in  _ something _ , and the will and confidence that the exorcism will work. If you believe it’s gonna work hard enough, it will.”

“Power of wishful thinking, huh?” Shane tilted his head, mulling it over.

“I mean, sure, but  _ more _ .” Ryan tapped his fingers on the wheel, and glanced over at Shane again. “So even if you’re an atheist, you should be able to get rid of a demon.”

Steven hummed behind them. “I think I’m still on primary ‘yelling in Latin’ duty, though, right? I should’ve studied Latin.”

“Yeah, probably.” Ryan shrugged, and then laughed. “What’s Shane gonna do, yell science at it?”

“I mean, if it depends on what you believe in…” Steven sounded thoughtful, and Shane shifted to stare back out the windshield.

“You believe in  _ something _ , though, right, big guy?” Ryan asked with a laugh.

“I make dumb internet videos about  _ snail massages _ . What, am I gonna exorcise a demon in the name of the YouTube algorithm? SEO? Premiere Pro?” 

Ryan laughed along with him, and it was good, light and easy, and Shane didn’t have to think, which was maybe the best part of it. 

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Ryan nodded, and added, in a more serious tone, “You could be doing better stuff, you know. What you do is good, but dude, you’re way too talented for it.”

Shane laughed, because he didn’t want to think about it. “Says you.” He said, instead, because really, Ryan was the one who was wasted at BuzzFeed. God, if things had been different, if they hadn’t had to delete all the footage and scrap Ryan’s supernatural ghost hunting show… Something. He didn’t know.

“We’re all good at what we do.” Steven cut in, blessedly. “Even if it’s a little surreal that I went from finding out demons were real straight into eating weird food on camera.”

“Yeah, that still hasn’t stopped being weird.” Ryan laughed, and Shane hummed in agreement. The dissonance of it all had never really faded, for Shane, but that might also be all the unresolved emotional issues he was refusing to acknowledge. 

The Barnett House looked particularly ominous in the dim moonlight, the upstairs windows gleaming strangely with reflections. Ryan’s eyes were huge, and when Shane shifted behind him, he jumped and whirled around. 

Shane laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Should we have brought an extra pair of pants for when you inevitably shit yourself?” 

Ryan scowled at him, but when Shane laughed, he joined in. “Fuck you, man.”

“I think we could put something together from the gear bag.” Steven offered, looking up from the display on his camera. “If it comes to that.”

“It won’t.” Ryan cut in, probably because he saw Shane opening his mouth. “You good to go, Steven?”

“Yeah, just about.” Steven shifted the camera, and Ryan grinned, bouncing on his heels and turning to face Shane.

Ryan was clearly  _ beyond _ excited about this shoot, about finally getting to make a prototype version of his baby pet project, and Shane felt a pit of fondness as he watched him amp himself up even further. 

“Okay, we meet our guide, get a quick interview, and then we have the place to ourselves.” Ryan glanced at each of them to check they were ready to go, and then they were trooping off towards the decrepit entrance to the building.

And really, for a place that offered guided ghost tours and had a gift shop, it was creepy as hell. Rotting wood, a crumbling balcony, cracked attic windows, the works. Shane could see why people would think it was haunted, or possessed, or whatever, even if he was absolutely going to make fun of Ryan for it as soon as the camera got rolling. 

Truth be told, he might be nearly as excited about this shoot as Ryan was; he’d been getting a little bored with everything he’d been working on, and he always liked making things with Ryan, and Steven he didn’t know quite as well but had always admired his work. Shane was confident they could make a good video out of Ryan getting spooked and Shane laughing at him for it, and then, maybe, they could make more. 

They stopped for gas and for Shane to switch over to take a turn driving, and then they were back on the road. Before long, Ryan leaned forwards between the two front seats, hooking an arm over the edge of Shane’s. “We should go on an actual vacation sometime.” 

“What, three dudes chilling in a hot tub?” Shane shot back immediately, and Ryan laughed, Steven easily joining in.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Ryan shook his head, and Shane didn’t have to look away from the road to know he was rolling his eyes. “No, asshole, like a  _ vacation _ . No cameras, no demons, just the good stuff.”

“Okay.” Shane said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where would you want to go? Vegas?”

“Nah, fuck that.”

“Uh huh.” Shane leaned back in his seat, considering. “What, you too good to leave California?”

“Nah, it’s more like nowhere’s good enough to be worth leaving.” Ryan grinned at him, big and easy. 

“Oh,  _ well _ then-” Shane huffed, but grinned back. “If nowhere in the world’s good enough for  _ Mister _ Ryan Bergara, then what can I say?”

“You can concede that California’s the best.” Ryan leaned back into his seat, and Shane glanced in the rear view mirror to see he was crossing his arms and looking far too self-satisfied. 

Apparently Steven thought so too, because he ducked in. “Not in this car, it’s not. You’re outnumbered, Bergara.”

Shane grinned, taking a moment to focus as he shifted lanes. “Midwest unite, baby!”

“Oh wow, some corn, groundbreaking.” Ryan huffed.

Steven turned in his seat to look at Ryan. “Okay, now we’ve gotta take you up to Chicago, make you lick the Bean or something.” There was a moment of silence while Shane blinked and spluttered. Behind him, Ryan burst out into laughter, and then, after a beat, so did Steven.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have to take me to Chicago to get me to eat someone out.” Ryan wheezed, and Steven put his face in his hands. 

“I regret everything.” Steven mumbled, and Shane laughed, keeping his eyes on the road and his mind off of the image of Ryan putting his mouth to good use. 

After the laughter died down a little, Ryan leaned forward again, hooking his chin over the edge of Shane’s seat. “It’d be pretty cool to head up to where you guys grew up, though. See Chicago, all that.”

“Schaumburg, not Chicago.” Shane corrected on autopilot, before what Ryan had said sunk in.

“I’m not from Chicago either, but it’d still be cool.” Steven nodded, and Ryan hummed.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been back to visit, right, Shane?”

Shane felt his stomach twist, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. It had, yes. He hadn’t been back since before the Barnett House, and that was pretty deliberate. “Yeah.” He forced out, the word tasting like dirt in his mouth. Like blood.

“Plane tickets won’t be too bad, this time of year.” Steven hummed consideringly, reaching for his phone. “We probably shouldn’t take time off again for a little while, but.”

Ryan’s chin was still resting on the back of Shane’s seat, and it felt almost like he could feel Ryan’s breath when he spoke. “Oh man, it’d be cool to meet your mom, after everything you’ve said about her.”

Shane stiffened, and he should respond, he really should, but he couldn’t. He wanted to take Ryan home, to take him to meet his parents, to take him around Schaumburg, around Chicago, but. But he hadn’t seen his mom since before he’d killed a man.

And he wasn’t sure he could take it, the way she always bundled him into a hug right as he got through the door and told him he wasn’t eating enough, and it was irrational, but some part of him was convinced that she’d  _ know _ , would look at his hands and know he’d taken a life, just like how she always knew if he’d been working too hard or not sleeping enough. 

And really, how could Shane go back to the warmth of his childhood home and be ordered around the kitchen and watch movies in the living room with Ryan when he’d taken that from someone, through no fault of their own? Steven and Ryan had had to help him  _ hide a body _ . They had been beyond lucky that nobody had looked their way when the guy had gone missing, that nobody had wondered if he’d shown up off duty to the creepy house he’d worked at. 

And Shane had  _ killed him _ . 

There was no way he could take a fun vacation back to see his family, alone or otherwise. 

Shane shuddered, and the silence had clearly gone on too long without him responding to Ryan, because Ryan was leaning back in his seat and staring at his phone, shoulders too tight, and the gash on Shane’s arm stung like hell, and Steven was clearly pretending nothing awkward had happened, and there was nothing he could do, could say, that would make it better. So he didn’t.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws for this chapter include: manslaughter/murder, a somewhat drunk blowjob, miles of guilt complex stuff, and that thing where someone gets possessed and says some Shit

The now two month old wound on Shane’s arm was just getting worse and worse. Maybe he’d somehow managed to jar it in the car, or something, or maybe he was just cursed by fate, because it was seeping a little, and flushed red around the edges, and Shane really didn’t want to fucking have to deal with this shit.

He stared at himself in the hotel bathroom mirror, and then shook his head. He had to do _something_ about it, even if that something was just slapping on some antiseptic ointment and a clean bandage.

Shane glanced at the door, considering. Ryan had left to grab them food and beer, and he was pretty sure Steven had ducked out for some reason, had said something on his way out. And Steven had said earlier that he’d brought a first aid kit.

Keeping his bad arm curled delicately around his middle, Shane crept out of the bathroom and dug through Steven’s bag, shifting clothes to one side before unzipping a convenient pocket, and there, bingo! It was small, the first aid kit, but it should do the trick.

He was considering if it would be better to take out what he needed there, or if he should just bring the whole thing with him into the bathroom when the hotel room door beeped open. There wasn’t really anything he could do, so Shane stayed still, staring at Steven as he came in and watching confusion and then concern come over his face.

“Hey, Shane, what’s up?”

Shane straightened, keeping hold of the first aid kit and gesturing towards the bathroom. “I’m just, uh. Gonna-”

“Woah.” Steven was right in front of him all of a sudden, reaching out to pull Shane’s arm towards him for a closer look. “Okay, wow. Is this- _oh_.”

Shane looked away. Of course Steven would remember. He’d by far been the most functional of them all, by the end of that night, so of course he’d remember all the blood that had stained the sleeve of the shirt Shane had been wearing, too fresh to be anything but his own. And, of course, he’d remember just how much Shane had struggled to help him lift the body, too.

Steven had probably figured he’d gotten it looked at, or that it had healed, but, well. It hadn’t.

“Yeah.” Shane sighed. “I was just grabbing a clean bandage, sorry.”

“Okay. Are you- that should’ve healed by now, right?”

Shane pulled his arm back, and Steven let him go easily. “Yeah, well. Couldn’t exactly go to a doctor and explain how it happened.”

“Okay,” Steven repeated, and he looked kind and concerned, and Shane couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t deal with anything.

“It’s fine.” He said, and went to lock himself in the bathroom like a coward.

“Shane?” Steven called from outside the door. “Hey, let me-”

“All good!” Shane turned the sink on all the way, jumping back when it splashed all over his shirt. He could dimly hear Steven saying something else over the noise, but not enough to make out words, which was the point. Steven just wanted to help, sure, but Shane didn’t fucking _need_ help, he needed-

He had no clue what he needed. Penance? A break? Time travel? Shane took a shuddery breath and shoved his arm under the spray of water, hissing at the sting of it. It didn’t matter.

Shane had been hanging back with Steven while he got some shots of the ground floor of the Barnett House when it happened- the scream. Ryan’s scream. A noise he’d been expecting to hear, but not _quite_ that terrified. Shane glanced at Steven, who shifted the weight of the camera and nodded, and then he was jogging up the stairs to where Ryan had bravely wandered off to explore.

The stairs creaked under each step, wood ancient and filled with complaints, and when Shane reached the landing, he called out. “Ryan? You okay up here?”

There was a muffled noise, halfway to a yell but cut far too short, and Shane cocked his head. Something was… wrong.

His long legs came in handy, because he crossed the distance to the only door that was ajar quickly, and pushed it open. It was a small room, with another door opening out onto a balcony, and then there was another creak and a choked gasp. Shane shoved forwards, and there, in the middle of the ancient balcony, there they were.

Two figures, dark and close, but clearly two. _Two_. Shane shone his flashlight forwards, and then he was crossing the distance between them at a run, because that was, of course, Ryan, and someone else. And the someone else had his hands around Ryan’s _throat_ , and Ryan was struggling and wheezing and the man was slamming him backwards, Ryan’s back hitting a wall, and there were _hands around Ryan’s throat_.

It was dark out, of course, because that was the whole point of leaving the hotel in the middle of the night, but all Shane could do was sink into the backseat and stare out the window. He was too hot, almost feverish, and his arm was _throbbing_ , and his head wasn’t doing all that great, either, but at least he could put that down to the drinks they’d had not that long ago.

Ryan was tense in the passenger seat in front of him, and Shane couldn’t even think about that, couldn’t think about, well, _all that_ , because he was feeling lightheaded and seriously woozy every time they took a turn, which was often, thanks to the country roads.

He must’ve made a noise, or something, because Ryan looked back at him and frowned. “Holy shit, Shane, you’re a mess back there.”

Shane just grunted, trying to get his head in order enough to make words happen. He felt _terrible_.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, and Shane could just about see his eyes watching him in the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” He forced out, the words coming surprisingly steady, considering he felt like he was about to melt into the car seat.

“You _really_ don’t look great.” Ryan pressed, still watching Shane. Shane blinked, slowly, trying to keep himself together.

Before Shane could gather the energy to reply, Steven spoke up. “If he says he’s fine, he’s fine.” Steven took the next turn a little slower, and Shane really owed him dinner or something.

Ryan sighed and settled back in his seat. Shane watched through somewhat bleary eyes as he fidgeted quietly in front of him, and wasn’t surprised when Ryan pushed again a couple of minutes later.

“If you’re worried about things, that’s fine. You think I’m not worried, too? Just talk to us about it.”

“I’m not.” Shane mumbled. And it was true, mostly. The bright side of feeling this physically shitty seemed to be that he didn’t have room to worry about anything. Well, not much.

But it didn’t seem like Ryan was going to let it go, which made sense. He had good instincts, both for video production and for people, always seemed to know what would work, when to push. Maybe it was more knowledge than instincts, the kind that came from always rigorously checking what lay below before he leapt, but still.

“Sure you’re not. Dude, come on, you _know_ I’ve been having nightmares, and you’re always awake when I text you after one, so it’s not like you’re sleeping either.” Ryan sighed, his head knocking back against the headrest. “Shit, of course I’m worried we can’t deal with this, we aren’t ready, whatever.”

The road dipped, and Shane’s head swam, and yeah, he was terrified. Scared out of his mind, scared that they didn’t know what they were doing, that they were willingly marching to their deaths, that he’d have to hurt someone again. That he’d kill someone again. That it wouldn’t fuck him up as much, the second time, and then, deeper than that, that it hadn’t fucked him up enough as it was, that he was someone who could kill someone and just go back to ordinary life. That he was someone who _had_.

His arm pulsed, hot and angry, and his mouth moved without him even fully realising it, just as heated and inflamed. “You were barely any help dealing with it last time, I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Ryan jolted in front of him and whipped around to face Shane, eyes hard. “God, do you have to be so distant and unaffected all the time? By everything? We’ve been pretending nothing happened, or, more accurately, _you_ have. But that’s fucking _bullshit_ , Shane.”

Ryan shook his head, and Shane just watched, keeping his face neutral even as pain shot through his arm, down to his fingers. “Come _on_ , we’re about to face down a demon that nearly killed us, why are you fucking acting like that doesn’t scare you? You’re not fucking fine, and that’s-” Ryan cut himself off with a bitter noise, turning away.

Shane’s hands shook, and he took a moment to get them under control, to clamp down on it all. The thing was, it hadn’t nearly killed _them_ , it had nearly killed _Ryan_. And that was a whole different ballgame.

“I _am_ fine.” He snapped, too loud in the darkness of the car.

Yeah, there was no way _that_ was believable. He was a fucking wreck.

Steven must’ve finally glanced back and seen what a mess Shane was, because he spoke after several long moments of silence.

“Shane, you should really tell him about the-”

And Shane cut him off with a too-sharp “Shut up, Steven.” He’d been about to say something about the festering, likely infected cut on his arm, Shane fucking knew he had, and no, no fucking way. Not happening.

He shook his head, and managed to catch a glimpse of Ryan’s reflection. He looked angry, of course, but because Shane knew him so fucking well, he could trace out the lines of confusion, of hurt, at the realisation that Steven clearly knew something about Shane that he didn’t.

Shane regretted everything. There was nothing he could do, though, because there was no way he could talk to either of them about how fucked up he was over all of this. First, because then he’d have to sit and think about it and try to force the mountain of guilt and horror into words that made sense. And second, because, shit, what was he going to do? What were they going to say? That it was okay that he’d _killed a person_ , that he’d made his friends help him hide the body, that he’d probably tanked their fucking careers in the process? That he’d _fucking killed_ someone?

So what else was there, really, but for Shane to shut everything down and act like it was fine? He gritted his teeth and let himself sink into the growing nausea and throbbing pain, watching Ryan withdraw into himself, angry and hurt. There was nothing else to do, and they just had to get through this mess, and then. Something.

One of the upsides, or, possibly, downsides, of Ryan being a total frat guy was that he was efficient at getting people nicely drunk fairly quickly. It was only 9, but Steven had already fallen asleep in one of the two beds. They’d need to be up and going in only a few hours, drive the last stretch out to the fucking demon schoolhouse or whatever under cover of darkness, but until then, well.

Until then, Shane could sit on the floor next to Ryan and watch him expertly mix shitty convenience store alcohol and not think about the fact that there was only one bed left. He was feeling pleasantly fuzzy, legs knocking against Ryan’s as they laughed their way through their collection of shitty celebrity impressions.

It could almost be a normal night, until Ryan took a thoughtful swallow of his drink, turned to Shane, and said “Maybe we should’ve saved the drinking and celebrating until _after_. Until post demon, not before.”

Shane hummed, feeling the easy, light humour flow out of him along with his ability to pretend that things were okay and normal. “Maybe.” He muttered, barely enunciating the word, and shut his eyes to try to get himself to stop thinking about demons and murder.

He heard Ryan shift, and then, when Shane opened his eyes, he was _right there_ , head tipped close, shoulder pressed close against his, and he looked so soft and open, and Shane hurt, _burned_ with it, and he was drunk and he was tired and he was stupid, so stupid, and in a few hours they were going to fight a fucking _demon_ , and.

And Shane let himself lean in and kiss Ryan.

It was soft and stupid and so, so good, and then Ryan was kissing back, giving it his all, like he did with everything else. Ryan pressed close up against him, mouth soft and eager, tasting like shitty booze, and Shane was going to fucking _drown_ in him. Their mouths moved together, perfect and in sync like they always, always were, despite everything.

His breathing was ragged against Ryan’s and he couldn’t break away, could only kiss him harder, more desperately, and Shane was going to drown in him, lose himself in him, and he was gone, completely.

Shane blinked, and he was looming at the end of a dark, decrepit hallway, flashlight shattered in a corner. He remembered wandering off once they had gotten to Ryan’s demon schoolprison, but not going this far, not how he’d gotten there, not what had happened to his flashlight, none of it.

He stared around, struggling to make out details in the darkness. There was a shout, distinctly Ryan’s voice, and then Steven’s, and the noises resolved themselves into his name. They were calling for him, Shane realised, and he made to call back, but- he couldn’t. He couldn’t even open his mouth.

Couldn’t move at _all_ , he realised, with a sinking pit of fear.

He caught a glimpse of a flicker of light, Steven and Ryan’s flashlights, and with a jolt, his body sunk back into a doorway without him meaning to. Shane’s arm wasn’t hurting anymore, either, and that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

And then there was Ryan’s face, scared and barely lit by the glow of his flashlight. He saw Shane after a second, and his face brightened, recognition and relief and familiarity, their fight in the car aside. Shane felt swept away by it, wanted to reach out, to return his smile, but he couldn’t. Physically _couldn’t_.

Shane’s shoulders shifted, again without his input, and he stepped forwards, and something happened with his face and then Ryan’s dropped, until it was the most terrified Shane had ever seen him, and Ryan’s fear really just wasn’t funny any more. Steven stumbled up beside him and joined him in staring at Shane, and then Shane felt his mouth opening.

He wanted to scream, but what came out instead was “Oh, of course. It’s you. Little Ryan Bergara, couldn’t keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him if his life depended on it.”

Ryan flinched, taking a stuttering half-step back. “Shane?”

Shane was screaming, he swore he was, but he seemed to be completely locked out of his body, confused and helpless, unable to do anything but watch and _dread_.

“Oh, he’s gone. Not like you ever really had him before, though, is it?” And the demon laughed, because it _was_ the demon, even when it laughed exactly Shane’s laugh, and Shane was trapped, and he could feel his mouth making the words, the sharp grin forced onto his face, and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything. God, he was being possessed, just like the guy he had killed had been, and he had no fucking clue how to deal with that, how to cope with the things it was making him say and the things he _knew_ it wanted to make him do.

Steven, perfect, wonderful Steven, grabbed Ryan’s arm and tugged him back, muttering something into his ear that Shane couldn’t quite make out. Shane’s eyes locked on Steven, flicking up and down him, and the grin splitting his face apart didn’t falter for a second.

“Steven! So helpful, so nice, so focused! I’d say you were such a good friend, covering for Shane, but you’re only friends with work, aren’t you?” Shane felt himself take another step forwards, and then another, using his height to dominate the distance like he never would himself, like he was always conscious of. The demon laughed, and Shane was used to the sound of his own laughter, thanks to all the videos he’d worked on, but this, this was something different.

Somehow, that was enough for Ryan to pull himself out of his fear-freeze, adrenaline kicking in, maybe, because he was squaring his shoulders, eyes huge and fierce when he locked them on Shane.

Shane _hurt_ with it, with the anger and pain and fear in Ryan’s face, all the things he’d hoped would never be directed at him. Ryan took a step forward, and Shane tried not to notice the shake in his hands, tried not to think about anything at all, because oh god, the demon knew everything _he_ knew, didn’t it? Ryan had to have something up his sleeve, he couldn’t just-

“Get the hell out of Shane.” Ryan snapped, empty hands balled into fists. He took a step closer, and the demon chuckled again, and this time Shane could _feel_ its flicker of amused interest.

Ryan shook his head, and softened slightly, still bristling with energy. “Come on, Shane, you can fight it. Come back to us.”

Shane couldn’t _think_. All he could do was _want_ and _hurt_ , huge and cacophonous, ricocheting around his brain, trapped there.

The demon tilted his head, as if it was considering something. “What, you think he’d do that, for _you_?”

Shane didn’t even think, because he’d already crossed the balcony and was shoving and tearing at the man, desperate to get his hands off of Ryan’s throat. His flashlight rolled across the floor and lit the struggle in dramatic blinding shadows, and Shane tugged at the man’s arms, desperate.

The man snarled and _hissed_ , a sick animal sound, and his eyes were black, and at first Shane thought it was a trick of the light, but Ryan stumbled and swayed and everything shifted, and he was choking Ryan even harder than before, Ryan’s knees buckling, and the man’s eyes actually _were_ black, all the way through.

Shane finally managed to tear the man’s hands away, Ryan hitting the floor as Shane drove the stranger against the balcony railing, _hard_. Ryan choked a ragged breath, and Shane struggled, taking a nasty punch to the face.

He slammed the man, the black-eyed _whatever_ , back against the railing again, and his left arm burst into pain, sharp and tearing, and there was the groan of complaining wood. The balcony cracked, and then it was splitting apart, and the man was falling backwards along with the wood.

He scrabbled at Shane for a grip, and Shane backpedaled in a panic, his arm wet and spiking with pain, and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back. All Shane could see was the man’s hands, falling away from his chest, and the little logo of the tour guide company on his shirt as he fell to the ground, landing with a wet thump.

Shane was lost in Ryan, unable to tear himself away from his mouth. He was so warm and soft and _Ryan_ , and that was enough, that was perfect. Behind them, Steven shifted in his sleep, so Shane crowded Ryan backwards, both of them shakily crawling across the floor, Ryan’s hand hooked around the back of Shane’s neck, until they were sprawled on the bathroom tile and Ryan was kicking the door shut.

Ryan dragged him down closer on top of him, and Shane shuddered with it, melting into Ryan’s tongue and his confident yet seemingly ever-distracted hands.

Shane broke the kiss to breathe shakily against Ryan’s mouth, not quite able to open his eyes. Ryan just _whined_ , digging his hands into Shane’s hips, his lower back, and that was Ryan’s _cock_ , hard and grinding up against him, and Shane wasn’t sure his arms were going to be able to hold him up.

He couldn’t believe this was fucking _happening_ , that he had Ryan dragging him down and grinding them together, and he couldn’t deal with it, the _enormity_ of it all, so he just went back to kissing Ryan, heated and needy.

Ryan reciprocated in kind and Shane couldn’t help but rock against him. He felt so _good_ , and Shane had been wanting this for so _long_ , hadn’t thought it’d ever happen, hadn’t let himself think about it.

Ryan’s hands gripped hard into Shane’s lower back, guiding him to move against him, so Shane did, greedy with it. He broke the kiss with a shudder, and Ryan tipped his head back, hitting the tile floor with a moan, cut off and delicious. Shane wanted _more_.

He tried so hard not to let himself want, not to need anything, but this was _Ryan_. Shane was pretty sure he could swallow him whole and still want more, could cuff himself to Ryan every hour of the day and still want to sneak in more time with him.

Shane dropped his head to mouth at Ryan’s neck, and he was so _responsive_ , hips arching against him. Shane couldn’t help himself, never could.

He slid down Ryan’s body, an awkward tangle of limbs and clothes, and then managed to settle between Ryan’s legs, which helpfully dropped further open for him. One of Shane’s hands moved to ruck Ryan’s shirt up while the other struggled with the button for his jeans, which proved to be foolish, since he was nowhere near coordinated enough to manage that.

Eventually, though, with some wiggling and some wonderful laughter from Ryan, they managed to get his jeans and underwear down, and finally, _finally_ , Shane could get his mouth on Ryan’s cock.

He swallowed him down, too worked up and desperate to take his time or tease. Ryan bucked up against him, then mumbled an apology, and Shane did his best to shake his head.

He didn’t really have it together enough for much technique, either, but he tried, putting his tongue to use and gripping the base of Ryan’s cock with the hand that wasn’t holding himself up. Ryan felt so good in his mouth, split it open wide and left his mind with no room for anything other than slick, wet skin.

Ryan cursed above him, muffled, and Shane glanced up to see him covering his mouth with one hand. Ryan caught him looking and shuddered, hips jolting again, and then he was tangling a hand in Shane’s hair, pulling him down.

Shane groaned around his mouthful, a little too careless with his teeth, but Ryan didn’t seem to mind, twitching in Shane’s mouth, fingers tightening in his hair.

Shane was a sloppy mess, covered in spit and barely remembering to breathe, achingly hard in his own jeans. His hand ached where it was keeping him propped up, and Ryan’s jeans were digging into his knees where they’d given up on getting them all the way down, and it was _Ryan_ running his fingers through Shane’s hair, _Ryan_ bucking up into his mouth, _Ryan’s_ thighs shaking on either side of his head.

Shane was going to come the second a hand touched his cock, he realised, pulling almost all the way off of Ryan with a stifled moan.

Ryan gasped, breathing desperate, and pulled Shane back down. He went willingly, eagerly, sinking down as far as he could and then a little bit further, pushing himself. “ _Shane_ -” Ryan’s hand tightened in his hair, hips shuddering, and Ryan was coming, filling Shane’s mouth even as he struggled to swallow it all down.

He wasn’t even thinking, just pulled his hand away from Ryan’s cock and shoved it down his own pants, gripping himself frantically. Ryan seemed to realise, after a moment, because he was pulling at Shane’s hair, at his shoulder, and Shane tipped forwards, nearly cracking his head open on the bathroom tile.

He opened his eyes just enough to see Ryan’s face, red and loose and almost shocked, and Shane’s face landed somewhere between Ryan’s neck and his collarbones. “ _Fuck_ -” Ryan panted, a hand sliding down his back, the other trying to work its way into Shane’s pants.

Shane shuddered, mouth pressing hot and open against Ryan’s skin, and then he was coming, fast and messy, falling apart on top of Ryan in a shitty hotel bathroom.

He could feel Ryan’s pulse racing underneath him, but Shane just extracted his hand from his own cock and wiped it on his shirt. He made to shift off of him, but Ryan kept him there, his eyes fluttering closed. Shane hummed, brain still a long way away from working properly, and stayed there, pressed too heavy against Ryan’s chest, gross and sticky, even though they had to get in the car and drive in a few hours.

Shane just- he just let himself bury his face in Ryan and breathe, slip into an easy tipsy post-orgasmic sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite all its taunting, Shane quickly began to feel what he thought must be the demon subsiding. Eye of the storm, maybe. He twitched his fingers, and it worked and they moved, and he swayed to the floor, back colliding with a damp wall.

“Oh, fuck, Ryan-” He wheezed, and it was him, his own voice coming out from his own mouth, and he shook with the relief of it.

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice was still tight, tense, and Shane forced his eyes open, not even sure when they had closed.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry-” Shane started, all in a flurry, wanting to reach out to him but not daring.

“Not now.” Steven cut in, taking a cautious step down the hallway, pressing past Ryan. “We don’t have time. It’s not gone, is it?” He took another step forwards, hands held out in front of him like he was approaching a skittish animal.

Shane shook his head, and regretted it when he felt the world spin around him. “Eye of the storm.” He muttered, making to heave himself upright and hitting the floor with a wince when he leaned on his left arm.

The blistering, almost sharp pain distracted him for long enough that he jolted again with surprise when Steven touched his shoulder. Steven looked concerned, so Shane just shrugged. “Shitty arm.” Steven bit his lip and started in on rolling Shane’s sleeve up, carefully peeling the fabric away from the sticky wet of the wound.

Shane looked away, because looking at things that hurt always made them worse. Instead, he looked at Ryan. Which maybe wasn’t the smartest idea.

Ryan was pale, inching down the hallway, hands gripping tight around his flashlight and water bottle of holy water. “Okay.” He said, as Shane watched him shake himself, get himself into gear, the way he had probably bordering on hundreds of times. He’d never felt this nauseous while watching Ryan amp himself up before, though.

“So, exorcisms.” Ryan clapped his hands together, finally coming close enough to drop into a crouch on the other side of Shane to Steven. “Wait, what the _fuck_ is that, Shane?”

Shane followed his gaze to the obviously infected cut on his arm, and then looked back at Ryan. “Parting shot from our demon a la off duty tour guide.” He shrugged, and Ryan stared. “It wasn’t even half this bad a couple of days ago.”

“Might be proximity or something-” Ryan muttered, and then clearly his brain started working again, because he met Shane’s eyes and switched tack. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Or go to a doctor?”

Shane shrugged, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Ryan’s face any more. He bit down on his tongue as Steven poured water over his arm with a quick apology, and still didn’t open his eyes.

“Jesus, fuck, how are you even being possessed?” And that was the sound of Ryan opening his backpack, so Shane considered it safe enough to open his eyes back up. It wasn’t, because Ryan had just been pulling out one of his bibles and was flipping through some of the notes tucked into it, and he looked up at Shane, and everything _hurt_.

“For someone to be a good host, they have to be open to it somehow, or be fucked up in some way, or have some massive guilt complex or some shit.” Ryan said, eyes locked with Shane’s, his expression a sinking, whistling teakettle kind of thing.

“Ryan.” He said, unable to look away. He was exhausted, and he had a demon in him, and Ryan was looking at him like- like-

“Ryan, I killed a guy.” Shane said, motionless, almost numb.

“Shane, no, you-” Ryan began, setting his flashlight on the floor and reaching out for Shane.

Shane shook his head sharply, ignoring the wave of dizziness it brought on. “I killed him. I pushed him off that balcony. I did that, and I didn’t have to, and I made you guys help me hide the body, and I ruined your ghost hunting project, and _I killed a guy, Ryan_. I’m a _murderer_.”

And then there was the other layer of guilt, the one he couldn’t help but find in the shattering lines of Ryan’s face. About not saying anything when he’d woken up on that bathroom floor with Ryan, about the way he was fucking everything up, about the way he’d _let_ that happen. He was ruining their friendship, he knew it, he’d known it would work out like this, and he still couldn’t fucking help himself. He was still doing it, even now, even as the guilt threatened to swallow him whole.

“Shane-” Ryan choked, and then cut himself off, tipping back to sit on the floor, hands shaking where they were balled into fists. Shane couldn’t look away from him.

On his other side, Steven shifted, letting go of Shane’s arm. “We can’t do an exorcism,” he said, clearly forcing his voice to come out steady. “People die from those, all the time.”

Shane managed to tear his eyes away from Ryan to watch Steven drag his hands through his hair.

“We haven’t got a choice.”

Both of them shifted at his words, and Shane just shrugged. “There’s a _demon_ in me, guys.” He shuddered, hoping that saying the word wouldn’t be enough to make it seize back control. “I’d rather an exorcism gone wrong than it kill more people.”

He bit his tongue, and looked at Ryan, and forced out the things that scared him even more than that. “I don’t want to kill someone, again. I don’t want it to use me to- I can’t _do_ that again. What if it- what if it breaks me so much that I don’t even care, anymore?”

Ryan reached out, sudden and like he hadn’t thought about it at all, and Shane leaned desperately into his hand on his shoulder. It wouldn’t be that hard, he thought, to make a murderer do it again. And he knew, _knew_ , in a way that didn’t come from him alone, that Ryan and Steven would be first.

Shane shuddered, and Ryan and Steven exchanged a quick look. “Okay.” Ryan said, too breathy to be properly decisive. “We’ll exorcise you.”

Steven huffed out a breath, and picked up the bible from where Ryan had set it down next to his leg. “Okay, but Shane’s an atheist. And I only barely know how to pronounce this shit.”

“Unshakable belief, not religion.” Ryan shrugged, squeezing Shane’s shoulder and then letting go. Shane looked away, because there was nothing else he could do.

“Okay, okay. Belief, sure, I remember.” Steven nodded, rising to his feet and slowly beginning to pace back and forth as he read Ryan’s notes.

“You have to believe in _something_ , right?” Ryan asked, and the words came out sharp, hurt, and Shane swayed a little on the spot, wall behind him be damned. Ryan was clearly trying to push everything down and forget all his feelings, but Shane had known all along that not telling Ryan any of it would hurt him, not to mention everything he’d said in the car.

Shane wanted more than ever to close the distance, the distance that _he’d_ so painstakingly built, piece by piece, one brushed off question at a time, but he couldn’t. They didn’t have the _time_.

The burning in his arm was beginning to reach a new crescendo, throbbing in time with his too-fast heartbeat.

“Yeah, I do.” Shane locked eyes with Ryan again, not even bothering to put up any kind of front, for the first time in nearly two months. He held his gaze for as long as he could, and then his eyes slid shut.

“Also, I think-” Were the last words he managed to get out, and then it wasn’t Shane in the driver’s seat any more.

Ryan’s eyes were fierce and desperate above him as he struggled to keep Shane pinned, and Shane was going to lose this fight, even with Steven’s voice getting louder and louder, the latin sending licks of fire down each of his limbs. Shane had never been whipped, before, but he wondered if this was what it felt like.

At least Ryan had managed to get his circle of salt down, so that hopefully when Shane stopped being able to fight the battle in his head, the demon would still be trapped, and Ryan and Steven would be able to escape.

“Come on, Shane, _fuck_ -” Ryan hissed, pinning one of Shane’s arms back against the wood floor. “Fucking, _god_ , Shane!” The demon nearly threw Ryan off, snapping Shane’s teeth too close to his throat once again.

And no, no fucking _way_. Shane didn’t have any control over his body, sure, but this was _Ryan_ , Ryan who he’d do literally fucking anything for, Ryan who-

Shane cut himself off mentally, trying to ram the full force of his messy, ugly tangle of emotions against the demon possessing him. Shane felt its surprise, and then the demon laughed, and growled, and kicked up at Ryan, and then he was opening Shane’s mouth to speak.

“I was wrong, you know.” It hissed, arching up under Ryan.

“Fuck you.” Ryan snapped, and Shane felt a burst of pride.

The demon laughed again, going limp for a second. “He came here for you, did you know? You’re the only reason he’s here.” It whispered, sly and self-satisfied, and Ryan stiffened, jolting back into action when the demon tried to use the moment to throw him off.

Shane could feel the demon’s plan, somehow, could tell that it was going to spill all of Shane’s secrets, tell Ryan how he felt, and it must be letting him know in advance as an added torture, an extra way to twist the knife.

Instead of conceding, though, instead of letting it happen and waiting for the next blow, Shane _railed_ against it. He pushed back, harder than he thought possible, feeling like he was going to split his consciousness in two in his struggle to take back control. _Shane_ wanted to be the one to tell Ryan, to spill his guts open and tell Ryan how much he wanted him, and he didn’t know if he would ever do it, didn’t know if he even _wanted_ to do it, but-

But it had to be him who did it, and that was all that mattered.

It was looking like he was going to have to tell Ryan everything, anyway, if he survived this, and he was more okay with that than he’d ever thought he could be, because all he wanted was to not have the chance taken from him.

That _thing_ didn’t get to take that chance from him.

The demon laughed, sounding as delighted as Shane did at the very best of Ryan’s jokes. “That’s sweet.” It hissed, still fighting to get free. “He doesn’t want me to tell you how he feels.”

Shane was dimly aware of Ryan freezing in place, mostly through the wave of satisfaction he felt all through his mind, where it was pressed up against the demon. It gathered up its strength and nearly threw Ryan completely off him, nearly sent him crashing through a wall, but Steven, blessed, perfect Steven, saved all their asses.

The holy water stung and burned everywhere it touched Shane’s skin, and the demon snapped its head to glare at Steven, who narrowed his eyes, dropped the now empty bottle of holy water, and went straight back to reading aloud, even louder this time. The shock seemed to have snapped Ryan out of it, because he managed to get the demon pinned even better than before.

Shane mentally shuddered with relief, and then felt himself lose any mental ground he’d gained, giving way to sharp snapping teeth and oilslick burning.

“Ryan, keep talking to him.” Steven cut himself off to say, and Ryan nodded.

“Okay, okay.” Ryan muttered, levering himself up so that he could look Shane in the eyes. “I’m fucking pissed at you, dude.” He panted, grip tight on each of Shane’s arms even as the demon struggled.

“You should’ve told me how shitty you were feeling, or said something about the _festering wound on your arm_ , god fucking damn. Or at least gone to the doctor, you dumbass.” Ryan rolled his eyes, and Shane just wanted to smile, to reach up and run his hands through Ryan’s hair. God, _Ryan_.

“Also,” Ryan continued, sounding momentarily fond before snapping back to forceful and angry. “If you ever call yourself a murderer again, I’m gonna punch you.”

If Shane could’ve, he would’ve laughed. Of course, of course Ryan’s version of talking him through an exorcism would be detailing all the ways that he’d fucked things up, for his own good.

And it was about belief, right? The kind that you’d set the world on fire for, the kind that lived in dark corners and sunk deep into your foundations, and Shane had that, had that in spades.

Because if there was anything, _anything_ at _all_ that he believed in, it was Ryan. Ryan, stubbornness and focus and determination, telling him he was an idiot as he pinned him to the floor in an ancient prison slash church. Ryan, and the ways he _knew_ they worked perfectly together, so in sync sometimes that they were practically the same person, spilling into each other, overflowing with it.

If anything could keep Shane together, it was him. The demon was right, the only reason he was here _was_ because of Ryan, because Shane believed in Ryan, because there was nowhere and nothing Shane wouldn’t follow him into.

And- and if that wasn’t enough to hold him through an exorcism, to defeat a literal fucking demon, then- fine. So fucking be it. But the enormity, the unshakable gravity well of Ryan and how Shane felt about him, that had been enough to keep him together so far, so who the hell was there to say it couldn’t do this?

And it wasn’t just Ryan, it was Steven filling in their stupier gaps, keeping them on track, and the way Shane _knew_ that the three of them could be the kind of wonder team that people always liked to talk about. What other trio of internet video making weirdos could trek into a demon possessed building, come out alive, and then chase the demon down to do it again?

Ryan was still pinning him, still talking, saying something about Shane needing to get his shit together, and Shane laughed, the sound actually managing to make it out of his mouth somehow. Steven was practically yelling in latin, his pronunciation having shifted into something almost seamless, smooth and furious, and he had Ryan’s stupid squirt gun filled with holy water in one hand, and Ryan was wide-eyed and panting above him, and.

And they were going to do this. They were going to fucking _pull this off_.

Ryan stopped talking for a moment, and Steven broke off to tell him to keep going. Ryan laughed, and looked right into Shane’s eyes. “You usually complain about me running my mouth, you weirdo. You’re just lucky I’m not yelling basketball stats at you, big guy, you’re a fucking captive audience right now.”

The demon hissed, and Shane hunted it through his mind, and somehow, he was able to speak, just for a second. “Never stopped you before.”

Ryan laughed, manic and wild, grip not faltering for a second. “Hey, Shane. Let’s finish this thing, yeah?”

Shane grinned, before it fell back into a snarl, vicious, but desperate, now. “It’s never going to work, you’re doomed-” The demon snapped, scrabbling at the floor, and Shane just shoved at it, buoyed by the way Ryan rolled his eyes, by the little exasperated snort Steven let out.

He stopped paying any attention to the words being forced out of his mouth, instead just throwing himself against the presence in his head, again and again, making it bear the full brunt of all the love that he had, all the hope and energy and faith that the three of them together could do this, could do anything and everything all at once.

Because this was him and Ryan and Steven, and _Ryan_ , and they were going to exorcise this god damned demon from his body, and nobody was going to die tonight, and then maybe they’d be okay, and Shane would have to have an excruciating talk about his _feelings_ , but then they could go get tacos or something, and they’d be _okay_.

And somehow, that was it.

The first thing Shane said post-exorcism was, for some reason, “Hey, Ryan, wanna get dinner sometime?”

Ryan blinked, still pinning him down, and then he was collapsing on top of Shane and laughing helplessly, hysterically, shattered in his relief. Steven hit the floor somewhere off to the side, and Shane grinned, resting one hand on Ryan’s shaking ribcage.

“All of us should, actually, that sounds smart.” Shane considered, tipping his head back against the floor. It wasn’t like he was going to get any _more_ covered in dust and mould and blood.

He tilted his head to look down his body at Ryan when he didn’t respond. Ryan’s face was doing something complicated, so Shane bit his tongue and used the thrumming high of adrenaline to keep talking, to not let himself hide away.

“Not like- Ryan, I want to date you. Steven, you, like the rest of us, need to eat food to live. Also, we need to decide our next moves, now we know demons are real and that we can do something about that.”

Ryan shot back with “We already knew demons were real, asshole,” so quickly that it was clear that what Shane had said hadn’t sunk in at all.

And, well, they’d just exorcised a demon out of his fucking body, so Shane shot off a quick “Sorry, Steven,” and then slid his hand up to Ryan’s shoulder, stabilising him and making him meet Shane’s eyes.

Ryan shifted, his knee still digging heavy into Shane’s thighs, and he was so, so close, close enough that Shane could feel his breath. Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but Shane beat him to it. “Ryan, I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Ryan just grinned, soft and happy and _everything_ , and he ducked down to kiss Shane, delicate but a little shaky with adrenaline still. Shane kissed him back, unable to do anything else, using his grip on Ryan’s shoulder to keep him close.

Before long, though, Ryan pulled back and climbed off of Shane, which was probably a good idea, considering he was soaked with holy water and blood and fuck knew what else, and it was well past the middle of the night, and they all needed to get out of this nightmare building.

“I wasn’t joking about the food, by the way. I’m starving.” Shane said, smiling gratefully at Steven when he helped him to his feet and stepping carefully over the circle of salt he’d been lying in. Both Ryan and Steven laughed, and Shane wasn’t quite steady on his feet, yet, but he’d get there.

Being that it was a stupid time of night, they had to settle for pre-packaged convenience store food, which Shane was going to absolutely devour. Shane slid into the backseat, bracing himself for the rest of the drive back to the hotel, and Ryan hesitated by the door. Shane just looked at him, and then Ryan shrugged and crawled into the backseat with him, sliding across to lean against Shane.

Steven shrugged and started the car, and Shane could feel Ryan breathing against him, steady and tired. They ate quietly as Steven drove, and Shane barely tasted any of it, just jamming food into his mouth while Ryan did the same.

After that was done, though, Ryan just shifted closer, tangling his fingers with Shane’s. Their eyes met, just for a moment, soft in the dark car, and Shane couldn’t help but smile. Ryan tipped his head against Shane’s shoulder, and they both drifted for a while, sinking into a happy half-sleep.

They couldn’t’ve been more than five minutes away from the hotel when Ryan finally said something, and it took Shane a moment to focus. “What was it that you believed in so hard?”

Shane shifted, catching a glimpse of Steven watching in the rear view mirror as he turned to look at Ryan. He almost deflected, brushed it off, but somehow, between the quiet clicking of the car’s indicator and the way Ryan’s soft breathing tickled his neck, Shane didn’t.

“You. Us. That we could pull it off. That we could pull _anything_ off.” He shrugged, not caring when it dislodged Ryan from his shoulder. “You.” He said again, softer, catching Ryan’s eye when he turned his head to look up at Shane.

“Oh.” Ryan blinked, clearly unsure what to do with that information. Shane could relate, because, well, so was he.

The next morning, or, more accurately, _later_ that morning, Steven bumped up against him while they were drinking their shitty hotel buffet coffee. “You okay?” He asked, checking in like he always did.

Shane nodded on autopilot, but bit back his immediate answer. He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t think the whole ‘having been possessed’ thing has sunk in yet.” Steven smiled, brushing their elbows together, clearly glad to have gotten an actual answer. “Are _you_ okay?”

Steven shrugged, taking a long sip of his coffee, and then answered just as honestly. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet for me, either.”

Ryan stepped up behind them both, resting a hand against Shane’s back. “We should probably take some time off of work and have our mental breakdowns together, huh?”

He just shrugged when Shane turned to look at him, and, in the manner of incredibly sleep deprived people who’d just been through a traumatic experience together, they burst out into laughter, too loud in the sleepy hotel buffet.

They had a long drive ahead of them, and it was still stupidly early in the morning, and Shane had no clue where they were going to go from here, but it was going to be okay.


End file.
